


But By What Name Shall I Call You, My Love?

by Otaku6337



Series: Ota's One-Shot Wonders [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Harry And Severus Are Bonded, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is So Done, Harry Potter is a Brat, Harry Potter is a Good Boyfriend, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pet Names, Sarcasm, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape Lives, Severus Snape is Bad at Feelings, Severus Snape is So Done, Teacher Harry Potter, just our boys being fluffy and grumpy and stupid, snarry, they might love each other but they will forever tease each other, together though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24845134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otaku6337/pseuds/Otaku6337
Summary: Severus has a pet name for Harry, but the younger just can't find one that his partner likes... So what's a Gryffindor to do but keep on trying?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Ota's One-Shot Wonders [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784254
Comments: 11
Kudos: 180





	But By What Name Shall I Call You, My Love?

"You, my brat, are going to give your students heart attacks one of these days," Severus begins, sweeping into their shared quarters with robes billowing. Harry, as per usual, takes a moment to drink in the elegant sight before replying,

"Surely you'd appreciate a few less 'dunderheads' wandering the halls?"

"I suppose I would, I will give you that," the elder concedes, a thoughtless wand wave unbuttoning his teaching robes and dismissing them to hang in the wardrobe, bedroom door easily opening and closing to allow for their passage. Harry inwardly revels in the delightful routine of it all.

Domesticity, he has found, is a stage of life that suits him most wonderfully.

"You know, I never did give you a pet name," he comments, one hand raised in a silent plea. Or rather, an invitation. Severus, to his credit, doesn't even roll his eyes as he steps forwards, takes Harry's hand, and allows himself to be reeled in until they are pressed into each other's sides, thighs squashing and hips not quite digging in. It's comfortable. Familiar.

"And suppose I might be quite content without one?" The tone is challenging and, well, Harry can't claim to have been a Gryffindor if he doesn't rise to any and all challenges, can he?

"Very well. What about..." He pauses, ponders, then goes for the simple route first,  
"Sev. Or Sev'rus?" However he receives only a dismissive snort in return. Hm, he'll have to try something else later.

* * *

Blame being surrounded by teenagers and their sappy romances every day, but Harry's next attempt is one borne to fail,

"Babe, can you pass me that defence scroll? The one about McAuliffe's treatise for quasi-physical shields?" In all truth, it is a thoughtless try, the younger man rather too focused on his work to give more than a brief moment's attention on his chosen pet name. It shows.

"If you vow to never call me that infantile abomination again."

"Hah - infantile, babe," Harry barks out, laughter dry. Severus does not join in, the misery guts; honestly, sometimes Harry thinks he's the only one with a sense of humour around here. Well, one that isn't ninety percent sarcasm, anyway.

And even though he scowls faintly at his partner's farce for humour, Severus still does as requested. And if his touch lingers across Harry's palm, thumb curling affectionately over a tanned wrist, somewhere between a caress and a hold, then there is nobody in their quarters to call out the casual intimacy.

* * *

"Oh!" Harry exclaims softly, tilting his head up where it's nestled on a pale shoulder. Severus looks down at him, one eyebrow slightly raised and a vaguely smile-like twitch to his lips evident.

"What about 'love'? Short, sweet, and utterly honest." The younger wizard genuinely really likes this one, knowing it to be less juvenile and completely sincere. It's something he could get used to saying. And so he speaks with a gentle smile, reaching one hand out from under their blankets to tuck a few strands of fine raven hair behind his partner's ear, giving himself an impossibly better view than before.

In return, Severus' smile deepens, becoming less something Harry could sense and just as much something he could see, but the elder still shakes his head, dislodging the hair that Harry had only just tucked back. Accordingly, the younger huffs lightly, more fond than grumpy, and shifts his partner's locks back for a second time, this time resting his hand comfortably on Severus' face afterwards, cupping his warm cheek with slightly-chilled fingers. Strokes his thumb along a high cheekbone. The Potions Master keeps his faint smile as he in turn leans into Harry's touch, turning his face slightly to nuzzle into Harry's creased palm, the skin callused but not rough, his touch too kind and loving to ever risk such a thing.

"Perhaps not that one, my brat."

Harry doesn't question it, instead offering a silent nod, hand never leaving Severus' cheek, giving him a place to hide, to bathe in love. He'll find something soon.

* * *

Harry glances at the pumpkin pie sat on his plate, up at Severus, then back down again.

"Pumpkin?"

"NO!"

Shrugging, the younger man tucks in to his dessert anyway. Maybe next time.

* * *

"You, my Slytherin, are far too sneaky for you own good," Harry states, half soft-sweet-serene, half chiding. It's a curious dichotomy that the younger has perfected and that never fails to have Severus listening, genuinely feeling a little scolded and very much that he should be heeding his partner's words. Although that isn't the same as rolling over for him.

"Oh? What have I done now? Minced a Hufflepuff first year for potions ingredients per chance? Or, no, pray tell if I have slandered the infamous Gryffindor pride by _not_ granting them two points a piece for braving my classroom?"

Harry, once he was done laughing, or more accurately, cackling himself hoarse, simply shook his head.

"You know exactly what you did Severus, and don't you deny it!"

"Deny what?" The elder's attempts at an innocent expression were doomed to failure from the moment he had entered the room. His eyes give it away, the darkness glinting with something golden and all-too amused.

"You, Severus Snape, are a sneaky Slytherin bastard and-"

"You love me for it."

"That-! No! Well, yes- You're not getting out of this! Severus, you cursed my entire classroom pink! I had to tell the students it was a test of their curse-breaking skills!"

"That had far too many exclamation points to be valid as conversation."

And now Harry devolves into pouting, peering up at Severus through thick, dark lashes. The older man puts up a valiant fight, frowning down at him for a long few seconds, but then his shoulders slump, arms unfolding to pull Harry into his embrace, a quiet voice murmuring in the younger's ear,

"I shan't do it again, my brat."

"And nothing similar either?" Despite his almost-demanding tone, the shorter man has his face very comfortably buried in his partner's shoulder, one hand tracing nonsensical patterns up and down the length of a familiar spin.

"Hm," Severus ponders, teasing, the rumble of his hum echoing through Harry in a way that has delightful shivers juddering across his skin,  
"Perhaps. One condition."

 _"Only_ one. Sounds too good to be true." And accordingly, Harry is tilting his head back a little, squinting up at his partner, gaze suspicious.

"No more 'sneaky Slytherin bastard'."

"But it's so accurate!"

A vague attempt at a derisive sneer twists Severus' face, one potions-stained hand coming to jab at Harry's side until he's jolting away and snickering.

"Fine, fine, I give in!"

"I'd rather you give yourself to me."

"I've already done that, you sneaky Slytherin."

Harry isn't quite fast enough to dodge the next ticklish jab. Or the one after.

* * *

Harry looks over the Hall, noticing that the students have platters of cupcakes tonight. Managing to keep his snickering under control, he leans to the side a little,

"Cupcake?"

When Severus only glares at him in warning, Harry can't help but burst out laughing, much to the bemusement of everyone else. Probably not that one then.

* * *

Stirring sugar into his coffee, and a dash of honey into Severus' mug - the former gold and white, etched with clouds, the latter blue and green, etched with waves; their mugs had been bonding gifts from Minerva and suited them almost perfectly - Harry was struck by the thought of pet names again.

"Here you go, sugar." 

They both freeze, wincing.

"I never said that, alright? Never. That was awful."

"Quite," Severus smirks, mirth dancing in those dark eyes. Harry prods him in the shoulder, but he's smiling.

"Thanks honey." Again, they both flinch. By Merlin, that couldn't have sounded any more awkward or stilted if the young man had been trying.

"I suppose that didn't happen either?"

"No. No, it did not."

Severus lets out a brief chuckle, but cuts himself off with a sip of his coffee all the same. Well, at least he's affording Harry some kind of dignity after those... monstrosities. 

* * *

"Severus, dear, do you want the steak and ale pie or baked salmon for dinner?"

"Salmon - and for you not to adopt the lexical choices of an elderly woman, nor for myself to be referred to as a hoofed mammal of the Cervidae family." Harry fights the incredibly strong urge to roll his eyes at the words,

"Oh hush, you. I'm going to order you a pie, just for that."

"Brat, there's no need to be petty," Severus retorts, the chiding tone underlaid by a genuine amount of disappointment.

"Nor is there any need to be snide, but here we are," Harry sneers in return, then dissolves into giggles.

He smiles victoriously when dinner arrives and he's given a chaste forehead kiss and a brush of careful fingers in thanks for the two plates of fish, cheese sauce, asparagus and mash on their table.

* * *

Harry pauses in his essay grading, looking up and over at Severus, sat on their sofa.

"I was debating Darling, but I'm not some patronising high-society lady with too many silk scarves, so I figured maybe not."

"And thank Merlin for that," Severus mutters, most of his attention on the book in his lap. Which, whilst understandable, is also utterly unacceptable, as far as Harry is concerned.

Accordingly, the younger wizard abandons his marking on their dining table and strides over to his partner, plan already forming.

"Got room for one more, handsome?" And before Severus can answer either way, or escape, Harry forces his arms out of the way and unceremoniously sits in Severus' lap, curling his arms low around the elder's back, hooking his chin over the Potion Master's shoulder and closing his eyes, immediately content. The body beneath him heaves with a long, heavy sigh, but Severus doesn't push him away. Instead, he wraps his own arms around the shorter, keeping him close against his chest, one arm braced against his shoulder blades in a way that Harry knows means that Severus is actually reading over his shoulder, but he doesn't mind. The important part is that he gets to sit here, chest to chest with his partner, breaths gradually easing into synch, a steady heartbeat pressed against his sternum, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of his other half.

"You're not calling me handsome either though."

And Harry, for all of his comfort and contentedness, does groan aloud at that; surely he'll be able to find _something_ that Severus won't mind?

* * *

"Fine, what about something less... cutesy and more sophisticated, suave, like 'my heart'?"

"Harry, think for a moment with that supposed brain of yours," Severus sneered, only half malignant,  
"Do the words 'my heart' truly roll off of your tongue in any way conducive to being used frequently and with affection?"

"No," Harry pouts, feeling quite put-out. He'd been hoping that approach would work,  
"I guess not."

He'll just have to try something even better with the next attempt.

* * *

"You, Severus Snape, are such a miserable bastard!" Harry bursts out one day, about a month into the whole thing, when they are curled up opposite each other on their sofa, ankles crossing, feet pressed against warm calves. His attempts to find an acceptable endearment for Severus had been rejected at every turn and he was beyond frustrated with the matter now, instead somewhere between offended and genuinely angry.

"Oh, a bastard am I?" Severus returns, a scathing eyebrow raised.

"Yes! You're an utter bastard sometimes, I'm only trying to show you that I love you-" Then Harry pauses, falters. Softens. Drinks in the minutiae of his partner's expressions and posture; how he has curled up that little bit tighter, book held a tad higher than before, chin raised. Oh. 

"But I suppose you're _my_ bastard."

"Hm," said bastard hums, eyebrow back in place and an upwards quirk to his lips,  
"I mightn't mind that one."

"What, bastard?" Harry exclaims, more than a bit incredulous because _really?_

"No, brat. Or at least, not without the possessive."

"I guess you really are my bastard then, aren't you?" And now Harry is smirking and he rises onto his knees then topples forwards, falling into waiting arms, both of their books discarded on the rug. 

His bastard is his home after all, and he wouldn't have it any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short and sweet bit of fluffiness with our two favourite snarky boys - hope you enjoyed! Hugs, Ota. Xxx


End file.
